


almost lovers

by auroraprism



Category: In the Bleak Midwinter (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, I'm Sorry, Melodrama, Not Canon Compliant, Soulmates, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29271912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroraprism/pseuds/auroraprism
Summary: when the sun burns out, i'll be waiting on the brighter side of grey. [i'm sorry for writing this forgive me lol. Anya/Omega, Delta/Anya]
Relationships: Anya/Delta, Anya/Omega, Delta/Anya, Ivan/Anya, Omega/Anya
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	almost lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Suppose I should apologise in advance. Beware the melodrama...it gets laid on embarrassingly thick. I take great liberties with canon here. Screw it. Ran a train straight through that MFer and made up a whole bunch of crap on the fly.
> 
> I am extremely salty about how easy this was to write. Quickest turnaround time ever...one day, then let it sit for a few more to see what could be changed. Just needed to yeet this from my brain before I could move on to other things. Wrote whatever came to mind tbh, complete stream of consciousness. It may or not make sense, haha. I don't really care. This is Anya struggling through her feelings and it may jump around a bit. 
> 
> This is vaguely connected to a multi-part series I've been working on. Could be considered an 'alternate ending' but not really.
> 
> I'll post some NSFW Anyega next. There is no angst in it (surprisingly).

“Can you believe it? Alexei and I are on speaking terms. Exchanging actual words. Well, I mean, not like how we were before, but it's an improvement. We're like siblings again. Maybe he's trying to make it up to me.” She paused for a moment, tucking a strand of golden hair behind an ear, a wry smile overtaking her lips, “Old age must be getting to him. What do you think?” Anya chuckled, the sound echoing into the still darkness, the only visible light the soft, white everglow of the full moon above and an audience of pulsing stars scattered across a deep blue canvas.

Anya sat atop a simple blanket with a small lantern and a few foodstuffs off to the side, the haphazardly opened wrappers a clue that she had been there for a few hours (as was tradition). Her beloved had been fond of sky watching, so that was what she was doing with him. In front of her was a gravestone, a simple grey slab of concrete sunk into damp, soft soil surrounded by well-manicured patches of crisp green grass. The weathered lettering on its facade suggested years had passed since its placement, but not worn enough to have been more than a few winters old.

Delicate shoulders shivered from a sudden wind chill, the cold begging for something to wrap herself in. She absent-mindedly yearned for his coat, a comfort she could not allow herself as she had ceased caving to that solace ages ago. Promised she would stop the behaviour—it wasn't healthy. Once in a while she'd pull it out for slight reminiscence—he'd been such a gentleman after she'd broken her neck, haha—but otherwise, she knew it was better to find comfort in the present.

“Hmm, it would make you happy to know that, right? Family was always very important to you. You're the one who told me to give him another chance, that there had to be more to it. But I guess you would think that way. You and he shared something in common.”

The urge to glance at her wrist suddenly took hold; however, emerald eyes did their best to deny the siren's call. She knew well what particular brand of devastation laid there. The watch that covered did little to ease the storm that began to brew in a discontented heart. Her eyes darkened a fraction as the memory reel within her mind began to spin, projecting less than pleasant images, things she would rather forget. “It was meant to be the two of us... I thought the lies had stopped when you finally admitted your true feelings, but you had one last deception to play. The most painful of all.”

You decided without me, didn't even have the decency to ask my opinion—to ask me what I wanted. We would often debate and talk through our problems or conflicting views, both stubborn as bulls but most times we managed to reach an understanding. It was always important that we understood each other since our minds worked similarly but in opposing ways. You were always adamant to let me have free will in my other choices, but this time was different. It was because you already knew what I wanted and it didn't sit well with you. You did what you thought would be the best for both of us.

That's why we went nowhere, our progress forever stalled. You were too reluctant to get attached because getting attached to you meant living forever, and who wants to live forever, right? It would be too hard to leave later. Didn't want to steal me away from the small circle of friends I'd made in the world. Believed you had nothing to offer me besides coldness and death.

The world feels so empty without you in it. How many times did I find myself in front of this marker, fruitlessly screaming your name to an impassive sky, hoping that the Universe would hear me? That the stars above would grant some sort of remedy to make my soul whole again, offer a panacea for this overwhelming grief. It made us soulmates. What then, was this reality that destiny handed to us? This couldn't be it, no. 

But in the end, it was pointless. No amount of tears, flowers, or offerings could ever bring back what had been taken. Pleading fell upon the deaf ears of an inscrutable and cruel god. It had made me immortal, but it couldn't—or rather maybe, wouldn't—bring you back.

The light caress of your hand against my cheek; the quiet power in your kiss as your lips met mine; the strength and security I found within the arms that caged me lovingly; your eyes—sometimes fierce, other times tender—that spoke a million words and twisted my insides up in a million more.

How unfair.

All I have left is this bitter, gnarled reminder of you on the inside of my wrist; the heat that passed between us and the feeling of completion that came with our first and last kiss—these dying dreams of you and me. I was more than willing to ride the flames alongside you, but you denied me that simple thing.

You were aware, more than anyone in the world, what those dead numbers would do to me. How it would shred my soul to pieces like it had done to yours, over and over and over again for nearly two decades. There's no one in this universe that can match your experience in losing a soulmate, that other sliver of your soul. Yet you still did it. Always unfair. So unfair.

Sometimes I can feel whispers of you upon the nape of my neck, gently consoling me. Your fingers threading through my hair as the wind lifts it gently on a breezy day. Your eyes beholding mine as I stare at the lone moon. At least that's what my half-crazed mind must have thought. I spent scores of my waking moments trying to figure out if I could somehow pluck those glimmering pieces of you back from the aether, that if I captured enough particles of your errant stardust, it would somehow allow me to wrench you back from the cosmos and reassemble that which I loved back into tangibility.

Were you afraid that I wouldn't pick you, with my attention so divided between you and another? Or were you terrified that I would, and that you were the wrong choice? You were content to let the other take care of me, knew that he could lift the shadows from my face and make my eyes dance with light. Why did you think you couldn't do the same? Was my timidity to blame? Did I not make it clear enough to you?

Ivan and I had tried to make it work. It was good, for a time. He loved me completely, and I thought it would be forever. But it was just too soon and too much. After the passion fizzled out, we found we were incompatible as life partners and better off as friends. Or perhaps I was just resistant, unwilling. I could only offer half of myself to him, you see. You're not the only one that can be unfair, my darling wolf.

“I didn't forget about you. That's not why I haven't been coming the past couple of times. It's just...well...I guess you would know without me saying anything. I felt a little awkward.” A pause.

“Delta misses you. But you already know that.”

Surprisingly, Delta had been there as a pillar of support from the beginning while her world was tearing at the very seams. The soulmate mark with his brother had meant that Anya was practically family, and family was always there to protect one another. Perhaps his was a greater pain, all things considered; he'd lost two instead of one. Gamma and Omega were both gone—he was utterly alone, the last of ten, the sole remnant of their mother's legacy. They bonded over that mutual loss.

Sometime after things ended with Ivan, one thing lead to another, and eventually...it just sort of happened. It may have always been there from the beginning, but neither had wanted to acknowledge the possibility. It was good, always so good, but the lingering guilt and shame that hung between them in the spaces after were always a tough hurdle to surpass.

Delta understood her in a way Ivan couldn't. Ivan could _sympathise_ , but he could never _understand_. How deep the hurt ran, how it cut straight past the bone and into the soul, maybe even further if there was something beyond. Delta had been one half of a whole as well, not in the same way, but his pain ran parallel to hers. Only he understood this emptiness that could never be filled. He didn't expect to be able to fill it, either.

Both of our other halves missing now. What a sight the two of us make together.

Isn't it funny?

“Would you be mad at me for that? I don't think you would. Frustratingly not. Some part of me, a deep, possessive part that loves only you fully, wishes you would.” The worst thing about you was your lack of self-worth. You didn't think you were worthy of being loved. One of my biggest regrets is that I couldn't make you see that you deserved love, too—how special you were, just like your mother used to say. All the bad things that happened weren't your fault. None of it was. You were just a child.

Maybe you would have fought for us then, tried to make it work. We couldn't be happy together in this life. Perhaps in another, is what you said to me before you urged me to return to the city. But as far as I knew, I only had this one life, this one moment. Should we live it in regret? The sun only shines for a brief moment before it sets, then we're in the dark again.

It wasn't just about that, though. I knew you were suffering and I hated to see it. You were my friend, my closest confidant. You were there when my only remaining family rejected me, used me, punished me. You were the mirror that challenged me, upturned my reality; there was my life before you, and after you. Everything changed on that destined day.  
  
Was there was something else we could have done? Found a way around it? Did you have to go? But that's all just thoughts to the wind now. What's done is done. You were gone before we even began. All that I have left are these cold what-ifs.

“Your brother said he would take care of me when I become a little old lady. Hah, and he feeds me well, too. You know I can't even make toast without burning it. Remember that one time we tried to bake a cake?” The memory brought on a full-body shudder.

Delta had been furious at the state of his kitchen afterward, scolding the both of them like children. Then he'd promptly rolled up his sleeves and showed “these amateurs” how it ought to be done. Gamma peered in from the other room, simply content to watch the chaos unfold with that small, familiar smirk gracing her lips. The glow of purple eyes recording everything for future perusal.

Anya had never been one for cooking. All those late nights at the hospital assured she always ran to whatever joint was next door for quick sustenance. But she wanted to learn and had thought it would be a good bonding activity for them both. One that didn't involve weapons or war. How difficult could it be to follow instructions? Omega excelled at that, what could go wrong? It seemed the kitchen was a battleground all its own and they'd underestimated it. She still didn't understand how...

Proceeding in a relationship with Delta posed its own unique challenges. She would age and he wouldn't, and when she inevitably turned to dust he would be alone again. If she could give him something worthwhile to carry him through the rest of his seemingly interminable life, then perhaps... But could she offer something like that to him? The decision was hers to make in the end—he would go along with her wishes. But that didn't mean he wasn't always trying to sway her over to his side; he made his preference crystal clear. Several times. In several places.

Wait, Alexei wouldn't like it. That was a problem she had never considered until now. Oh...

“Delta has really mellowed out. He's wonderful with the children. He raised you after all the tragedy happened, so I'm not too surprised.” After the war ended, Anya had started an orphanage to take in all the displaced children she could manage. She'd created her own little happy family. The work gave her joy. In truth, she hadn't been truly miserable in years. It's just in the quiet moments like these that she would think of him, and all the bitterness and anger would rush back to her as if it had happened yesterday. Rip open those scabbed over wounds and expose the rawness that laid beneath.

“I'm sorry to do this on your birthday, explode at you like this.” She gnawed anxiously on her bottom lip before continuing, “So I'm here to say thank you. It's been years but I could never bring myself to say it because it would mean forgiving you, and I was never ready.” What had happened was bigger than any of them, so much had been at stake. “You saved me, saved everyone. The atmosphere is safe to breathe again because of your sacrifice. Generations of young ones, both human and android, won't have to experience that war, the one you spent more than half your life fighting.”

If there's any silver lining to this, I hope you're happy wherever you ended up. I like to imagine you're up there looking down on me. Or maybe you're already back here, somewhere out there, looking up at the same sky. If it's meant to be, I'm sure we'll meet again.

In another life.

Maybe we'll meet in a cafe, hastily on our way to work when we just happen to bump into each other. You, with your coffee straight black; and me with my tea; glimpse each other's names on the cups before our gazes connect. I'd always imagined you'd be a police officer or a detective–you look absolutely dashing in uniform.

Or maybe in a library, both reaching for the same book on the top shelf. But you're much taller than me so you get there first, your hand unintentionally brushing mine, thin-framed glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you stare down at me with fathomless, intense eyes. The collar of your turtleneck concealing a strong collarbone and thick neck; cheeks still round with youth, lacking the chiseled jaw that would come in a scant few years.

If those are too pedestrian, perhaps something more wild? On a planet in an entirely different galaxy, or maybe traveling the universe on a spaceship? I had just finished my medic duties for the day and needed a moment to unwind. I'll find you there on the observation deck, looking wistfully out into the vastness of space. It'll just be the two of us and the quiet hum of the engines as we drift off into the unknown. Exploring new horizons on the starsea, a completely untethered existence rife with thrills and countless possibilities.

But I like to imagine something more simple, familiar. In a park just on the verge of a beautiful sunset, a soft breeze rustling through the branches of nearby trees, ripples quietly disturbing the surface of a crystalline lake. The evening effulgence touching all within its domain with hues of orange and gold, hazy and dream-like, similar to that time before but a completely different mood... It'll be breathtaking and romantic, putting all those cheesy movies and books to shame. We'll live each day carefree in the sun and dance together under the moonlight.

We were made from the same star, you and I. Until the day that the synchronicity of our souls overlaps once again, I'll be waiting. No matter the time or place, I'll know it's you the moment we lock eyes because I know what it feels like to stare into your eyes—to be complete and whole. Two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly.

But the served reality was much crueler. A bullet to the head in that passionless laboratory in a frozen wasteland, a torrent of gunfire and smoke, stolen furtive glances that said so much but amounted to nothing, and unending regret so deep and wide that it would make the oceans envious.

Anything would have been better than that. Anything.

Right person, wrong timing. Maybe you understood that when I didn't, always so observant and thoughtful. I'm sure the decision wasn't easy for you. I know you only wanted what was best for me. It was just convenient to blame you all those years, the anger made the pain just a little easier to digest. I worked so hard to prove that I didn't need saving and it was like you had thrown everything back in my face. You made me believe I could handle myself and it was as if all my efforts had been erased in that instant—like you had lied with barefaced audacity the entire time.

It seems even the greatest love can't mend broken circumstance. We were doomed from the start. We both knew it, too, didn't we?

Like a popular song played decades before either of our births, “Each day's a gift and not a given right.” So I'll try to honour the gift you gave me by living the remainder of my life happily. Next time I come here, it'll be only happy things. I promise.

If a piece of you still exists out there, my final request in this life would be to see you again at the end. You were the one I was dreaming of, I'm sure of it. Would you extend your hand to me one final time? Join it with mine and we'll walk into the light together, onto the next great adventure.

_We may not be together, but we're inseparable in spirit._

_Until we meet again._

_Goodbye, my friend. My almost lover._

**Author's Note:**

> THE ANYEGA TEARS. (╥﹏╥) Where did this come from asldjfsdjwej omg. Omega will never die. No. ;-; 
> 
> Though I'm not sure if my writing is effective in a way that will actually elicit an emotional response from an outside reader. Does it need to be simpler for more impact? More vague in the lead-up? Less detail? I should probably cut some paragraphs out... What actually makes people cry? How can I write like that? Hmm... -.- 
> 
> The 'dreaming of you' part refers to the hand reaching out to Anya in her water dreams. I actually DON'T think it's Omega since the drowning reveal. It may actually just be her subconscious crying out for anyone to save her...but it could still be him unconsciously reaching out through the bond. 
> 
> “The time before” is their 'second meeting' in EP.5. I always found that chapter to have a dream-like quality to it with all the mood lighting and music. It defines their relationship perfectly. On opposing sides, never to be one. But they still get their ephemeral fated moment amidst the violence and bloodshed.
> 
> I was vague concerning Delta x Anya because I have no idea how to write that dynamic yet. I'll need to analyse Delta more before I can even attempt to do anything with him. Might try to go into more detail on their relationship here in a different drabble if I'm ever feeling brave (oops, I already wrote a brief outline. It's NSFW...gods help me...remember that spatula/immersion blender that you guys utterly destroyed? I'll make sure you never forget it. Oh, and what do we have here? A strawberry stem remover? I wonder how we can apply this. Hoho... You will respect this kitchen. ). ⚆_⚆
> 
> Don't know if Anya can cook or not. Just chose to make her a bad one for this fic. I'm thinking she can/has the potential to learn since ISFJs are homemakers or something? Omg, what if Delta held a cooking class for the both of them, just to make sure they stop fucking up his kitchen. Omega seems like a black coffee type of bloke but I think it would be cute if he liked a little sugar, too. Since Anya is so sweet. Huhu...I'm cheesy.
> 
> Music inspired me heavily so...here's the depression playlist: 
> 
> Five Finger Death Punch - Gone Away  
> Five Finger Death Punch - The Brighter Side of Grey  
> In This Moment - Legacy  
> Red - Gone  
> Red - Lie to Me  
> Disturbed - Stricken  
> Disturbed - Save Our Last Goodbye  
> Nickelback - If Today Was Your Last Day  
> Nickelback - Photograph  
> Lifehouse - All In  
> Puddle of Mudd – Blurry  
> The Wallflowers – One Headlight
> 
> I've been on a 2000s nostalgia kick and forgot some of those even existed. Don't come at me for Nickelback, ok?! They have good songs, even if their repertoire sounds similar. That's why you pick only 1-3 songs and just stick to those, lmao. No one can listen to an album all the way through.


End file.
